Category: English

It was 3 a.m. when the class president, Megan, suddenly dropped a message in the group chat: graduation photos, the day after tomorrow, in the morning. A second message followed with a payment link: $50 per person. I replied, telling her I had my thesis defense that day and asked if we could possibly reschedule. Her response was blunt. “Is your time the only time that matters? If you can’t make it, get lost.” Wanting to fit in, just this once, I paid the fee and went through hell to reschedule my defense. But when the day of the photoshoot arrived, a classmate told me: “Oh, the graduation photos? We already took them yesterday.” … I had spent an hour on my makeup, wanting to look my best. But when I arrived at the campus quad, breathless under the brutal sun, there was no one there. I pulled out my phone and checked the notification again. [The day after tomorrow at 10 a.m., meet on the quad for graduation photos.] I scrolled down. There were no other messages about a change in plans. I was in the right place at the right time. So where was everyone? Refusing to believe it, I thought maybe they’d moved to the gym to escape the heat. Not wanting to be late, I hurried over. But the gym was empty except for a few underclassmen playing basketball. The sun was a weight on my shoulders. Sweat trickled down my back, soaking the crisp white shirt I’d picked out specially for the photos. My carefully applied makeup was now a sticky, streaky mess on my face. My patience snapped. I called my roommate, Lily. “Hello, Sarah?” Lily’s voice was hesitant, laced with guilt. “Lily, where are you guys? Did the time for the photos change? Why is the quad empty?” I tried to keep my voice from trembling. Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Um… Sarah, actually… we took them yesterday.” “Yesterday?” My voice shot up, drawing stares from a few students nearby. “But Megan’s message clearly said today…” “Megan sent another notification in the private chat to change the time. She must have… forgotten to add you to that one.” Lily’s voice grew smaller and smaller. My hand holding the phone began to shake. It was happening again. Ever since my sophomore year, when I’d refused to pay Megan’s unreasonable fee for a class event, I had been the target of her little clique. But this was too much. Graduation photos were a once-in-a-lifetime thing. “What about my fifty dollars?” I asked, biting my lip. “You’ll… you’ll have to ask Megan about that.” Lily quickly muttered something about being busy and hung up. I stood there, frozen, feeling all the blood rush to my head. Fifty dollars wasn’t a small amount for me. It was three days’ pay from my part-time job. But what hurt more was the knowledge that I would never be in our graduation yearbook. The entire class would remember me as Sarah, the weirdo who didn’t even show up for her own graduation photo. Taking a deep breath, I opened my chat with Megan. The last message was still her sharp “If you can’t make it, get lost.” My fingers trembled with rage as I typed. “Megan, why wasn’t I notified that the time for the photos had changed? I paid the fee. Why was I left out?” The “typing…” bubble appeared, then stopped. Appeared, then stopped again. Five full minutes passed before she replied: “Maybe you should check the group chat. It’s not my fault you’re antisocial.” I stared at the message, my eyes burning. I decided to take this to my student advisor. His office door was slightly ajar. As I raised my hand to knock, I heard Megan’s sweet, syrupy voice from inside. “Mr. Davis, over the past four years, I’ve organized more than twenty class activities and even won the Outstanding Student Leader award…” I pushed the door open. Megan was sitting across from my advisor, a pile of documents spread across his desk. They both looked up. The smile on Megan’s face froze. “Sarah?” Mr. Davis looked surprised. “Is something wrong?” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Mr. Davis, I’m here to report an issue of targeted bullying by the class president, Megan.” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “She collected the fee for graduation photos but deliberately failed to inform me of the correct time, resulting in my absence from the class picture.” Megan shot to her feet. “That’s a lie! It was your own fault for not reading the group chat messages!” “Which group chat?” I looked her straight in the eye. “The private one that I’m not a part of?” Megan’s expression faltered. She turned to the advisor. “Mr. Davis, our class has three group chats. Sarah left two of them on her own…” “I never left any group chat,” I cut her off. “You kicked me out. During the sophomore year class dinner, you demanded everyone pay eighty dollars. When I questioned the cost, you kicked me out of the group.” Megan sneered, but her face crumpled into a mask of grievance when she turned back to the advisor. “You see, Mr. Davis? This is what she does. She always finds fault with everything I do for the class.” “That dinner was at a high-end restaurant. Eighty dollars wasn’t even enough. I had to supplement it with class funds…” “You’re lying!” My voice trembled with anger. “The actual cost per person was less than fifty dollars, and you never showed us the bill!” Mr. Davis frowned. “Alright, that’s enough. Graduation is just around the corner. Let’s not argue over such trivial matters.” “You’re both at fault. Megan, you should have made sure every student was notified about the photos…” “I did notify everyone!” Megan suddenly pulled out her phone. “See? I sent a notification in the main year-group chat and tagged everyone. Is it my fault if she muted the chat?” I leaned in to look. She had, in fact, posted a brief, one-line message in the massive year-group chat. But that chat was constantly spammed with ads and irrelevant announcements; I’d muted it ages ago. “And,” Megan added triumphantly, “I even had her roommate go to her dorm room to get her before the photos yesterday. She wasn’t there.” My head snapped toward her. “Who came to get me? I was in my room all day yesterday preparing for my thesis defense!” “Lily said she knocked for ages and no one answered,” Megan shrugged. “Maybe you had your headphones on.” I was shaking with fury. Lily had never come to my door. Megan seized the opportunity. “Mr. Davis, as you know, Sarah never participates in class activities. We always have to chase her down for everything.” “For the graduation photos, she was the only one in the entire class who asked to change the time…” “That’s because I had my defense!” I was so angry my voice was shaking. “And didn’t I reschedule it to accommodate everyone else in the end?” “Alright, alright.” Mr. Davis cut us off, his frown deepening. “The photos have been taken. There’s no use arguing about it now.” He looked at me. “Sarah, you need to learn to be a team player. It’s a shame to go through four years of college without a single graduation photo.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Mr. Davis, this isn’t my fault…” “Megan has been a very responsible class president,” he said, patting her shoulder. “How about this? I’ll have the photographer Photoshop you into the picture. We’ll cover the cost with class funds.” “What about my fifty dollars?” I pressed. Megan immediately cut in. “That’s already been paid to the photographer. It’s non-refundable.” Mr. Davis nodded. “That’s right. The photographer did his job.” I stood there, a chill spreading through my body. This was the university I had spent four years at. These were the teacher and classmates I had known for four years. “Don’t bother with the Photoshop,” I said softly. “I’m not paying for a fake memory.” As I turned to leave, I heard Megan say behind me, “You see, Mr. Davis? That’s her attitude. She just doesn’t want to fit in…” When I got back to my dorm, Lily was sitting on the edge of my bed, holding a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Sarah…” She stood up awkwardly. “I’m so sorry. I was going to come find you, but something came up…” I silently walked around her and started clearing things off my desk. “This is for you,” she said, pushing the box toward me. “Everyone in our dorm got one…” I stopped what I was doing and looked at the box with its pink silk ribbon. “Did you really come to find me yesterday?” I asked quietly. Lily’s fingers twisted together. “I… I did go, but you weren’t there…” “I was in the dorm all day yesterday,” I said, looking directly into her eyes. “From eight in the morning until ten at night. I even ordered in for lunch.” Her face flushed a deep red. “Maybe… maybe I got the time wrong…” “Lily,” I cut her off. “For four years, how many times have I saved you a seat in the library? How many times have I helped you with your homework?” Her head sank lower. “Last semester, when you had that high fever, who took you to the hospital in the middle of the night?” My voice began to tremble. “Who stayed with you in the emergency room until dawn?” A single tear hit the floor. “I’m sorry…” she whispered, starting to sob. “It was Megan… she said not to bother telling you… she said you never fit in anyway…” I took a deep breath and pushed the gift box back toward her. “No, thank you.” Just as I was about to ask her to leave, my phone vibrated. A new notification from Megan in the class group chat: [For those who paid, you can come to the studio this afternoon for individual and group portraits.] The chat exploded with cheers and thank-you emojis. Lily quickly grabbed my hand. “I’ll go with you this afternoon…” I coldly pulled my hand away. “I’ll go by myself.” After all, I had paid my fifty dollars. At three o’clock that afternoon, I went to the campus photo studio alone. From a distance, I could see my classmates gathered in small groups, laughing as they looked through their newly received yearbooks. But the moment I pushed the door open, the noisy room fell silent for a beat. More than twenty pairs of eyes shot toward me, then quickly looked away. A few stifled giggles floated in the air. I had no idea what was going on. I walked straight to Laura, the class treasurer, who was handing out the yearbooks. She was one of Megan’s best friends and had often joined in on the bullying. Today, Laura wore a full face of makeup and her graduation gown, surrounded by a group of admiring girls. Seeing me approach, a flicker of panic crossed her face, quickly replaced by her usual condescending smirk. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” Laura said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I thought you didn’t want one.” I held out my hand calmly. “My yearbook, please.” Laura let out an exaggerated sigh and handed me a copy from the table. “Here you go. We saved one just for you.” I opened it. The first page was the class photo. My picture had been Photoshopped into the back-row corner—a grainy, pixelated image clearly lifted from my student ID card. It was blown up to the point of distortion, my face a ghostly white that contrasted sharply with everyone else’s natural smiles. To make it worse, they had Photoshopped a pair of ridiculous bunny ears on top of my head. A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the room. I looked up and saw several classmates covering their mouths, while others were holding up their phones, taking pictures of me. “So, what do you think? Satisfied?” Laura asked, raising an eyebrow in triumph. “I personally asked the photographer to give it some special attention.” My fingers gripped the edge of the yearbook so tightly my knuckles turned white. “This is what my fifty dollars paid for?” I heard my own voice, eerily calm. Laura just shrugged. “You think Photoshop is free? Do you have any idea how much overtime the photographer had to work?” “Give me my money back.” I slammed the yearbook down on the table. “Or I’m going to the Dean’s Office right now to report you and Megan for embezzling class funds.” Laura’s face paled. “What are you talking about? Every cent of the class funds is accounted for!” I didn’t want to argue with her anymore. I went to find Megan. She was chatting animatedly with the photographer. The moment she saw me, she cut me off, her expression instantly hostile. She lifted her chin. “We’re doing individual portraits here. Unauthorized personnel are not welcome.” “I paid,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Fifty dollars. Same as everyone else.” Megan let out a snort, crossing her arms. “Sarah, get it through your head. The fifty dollars only covers the group photo. Individual portraits are extra. Got it?” She raised her voice deliberately, drawing the attention of the other students. “We were being generous by Photoshopping you in at all. What more do you want?” I clenched my fists. “Then why does everyone else get an individual portrait?” “Because they paid the extra fee,” Megan said, rolling her eyes. “If you’re broke, don’t come here and embarrass yourself. Now get out.” A few students snickered. I felt the blood rush to my head. Megan continued her taunts, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “Some people are just so antisocial. Four years of college and not a single decent photo to show for it. How pathetic.” “Give me my fifty dollars back!” I forced the words out, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. “Since you already took the group photo and made me look like a joke, just give me a refund!” Megan’s eyes went wide in mock surprise. “Sarah, have you no shame? You’re in the graduation photo, aren’t you? Do you think Photoshop is free? Do you think the photographer works for free?” “That was my student ID picture! And you deliberately made a mockery of it!” I pointed to the ridiculous bunny ears in the yearbook. “What is this supposed to be?” “It was just a joke. Why are you so serious?” Megan pouted. “You’re the only one in the whole class who can’t take a joke.” The snickering around me grew louder. I felt like a circus animal on display. “Refund my money!” I raised my voice. “Or I’m reporting you for embezzling class funds!” “Go ahead, report me!” Megan laughed as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Let’s see who’s going to listen to you!” Our argument grew louder, finally attracting the attention of the department head, Mr. Evans, and the Dean, who were in the adjacent studio. Mr. Evans strode over, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on here? I could hear you shouting from down the hall.” Megan’s face changed instantly, her eyes welling up with tears. “Mr. Evans, Sarah is demanding a refund for the graduation photos… but they’ve already been taken, and the money has been paid to the photographer…” She added with a sniffle, “We were nice enough to Photoshop her in, and she’s not even grateful…” Mr. Evans turned to me, his expression disapproving. “Sarah, that’s not right. The graduation photo is a group activity. You can’t ask for a refund for personal reasons.” I took a deep breath. “Mr. Evans, they took my money but didn’t tell me the right time for the photo. The class photo uses my ID picture, and they intentionally made it look ridiculous to humiliate me.” “Furthermore, I know for a fact that the class president and treasurer have been embezzling class funds.”

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Even after the real daughter returned, my adoptive parents still favored me. When it came to choosing bedrooms, the real daughter merely glanced at my princess-themed room with curiosity. Mom frowned instantly. “That’s Paige’s room. She’s lived there for eighteen years. You can’t take it from her. Pick any other room on the second floor.” At dinner, the table was piled high with my favorite dishes. Dad, Mom, and my brother kept comforting me. “Paige, you will always be our precious baby girl.” They even wanted to transfer 20% of the company shares to me. The real daughter’s eyes reddened on the spot. “If you don’t like me, why did you bring me back?” 1 When Sarah, the real daughter of the Lawson family, started crying out of frustration, I was frantically trying to communicate with Mom using sign language. I wanted to tell her: I’m not important. You guys should take care of your biological daughter first. But I had only lost my voice two days ago, and my sign language was completely made up. Mom watched my chaotic gestures, confused, until a lightbulb seemed to go off. “Paige, calm down. Don’t worry, you will always be our most precious daughter.” Most precious? Then what about Sarah? My mouth twitched, and I gave Mom a speechless thumbs-up. Wow, great way with words, Mom. Sure enough, Sarah looked like she was about to crumble. But my parents’ eyes were habitually fixed on me. “Paige, Dad knows you must feel insecure now that Sarah is back. I’m going to transfer 20% of the company shares to you right now so you can feel safe!” No! I don’t want shares! I want you to look at your biological daughter! She looks like she’s about to shatter! Seeing the despair in Sarah’s eyes, I clutched my throat, rolling my eyes in panic. Good God. Why did I have to get my tonsils and adenoids removed right now? “N… no… ugh… hurts…” My throat felt like it was on fire. Every syllable was like swallowing glass. Seeing me struggle, my parents panicked. “Paige, don’t talk! We understand!” You understand nothing… Looking at Sarah’s increasingly pale face, I felt terrible. I rushed away from the table, sprinted up to my room on the second floor, grabbed my writing tablet, and hurried back down. As soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard my brother, Lucas, yelling at Sarah. “You just have to compete with Paige, don’t you? She’s crying now. Are you happy?” Sarah screamed back. “Happy about what?” She stood up, scanning the faces of her parents and brother, and let out a cold laugh. “I haven’t said a single word since I got here, and you accuse me of competing with her. I don’t even have the right to speak in this house. What do I have to compete with? How dare I compete with her?” I felt like the most desperate person in the room should be me. I quickly scribbled a paragraph on my tablet and shoved it in front of everyone. [I wasn’t crying. My throat hurts too much to talk, so I went upstairs to get this tablet.] Then, I pointed at the table full of food—abalone, king crab, lobster, and my favorite, spicy stir-fried intestines. I wrote furiously, my face serious. [Even though these are my favorites, I can’t eat any of them right now. So you actually prepared these for Sarah. Why didn’t you tell her? Why did Mom keep putting food on my plate?] Mom smiled sheepishly. “Sarah just got back, and we didn’t know what she liked, so we had the chef cook your favorites. We were afraid you’d get upset and have an episode, so we served you first…” I rolled my eyes and kept writing. [If you don’t know what she likes, you can ASK her! I stole eighteen years of her wealthy life. What logic is there in ignoring her to comfort me and revolving everything around me?] Seeing how serious I was, the room fell silent. Dad pulled out his phone, looking awkward. “In those ‘Real vs. Fake Daughter’ novels, doesn’t the fake daughter usually throw a fit and become the villain? Plus, with your condition, we thought…” I facepalmed. Dad… please delete TikTok immediately. Mom held my arm, looking at me with heartache. “We were just so afraid you’d do something extreme! I raised you for eighteen years. You’re no different from my own flesh and blood. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Lucas laughed too. “It’s fine if you take the shares. I’m not jealous. Keep the wealth in the family. When you grow up, I’ll just chase you and make you my wife… I’ve watched you grow up. Aside from your illness, we know you’re a good person.” Me: “…” My heart felt warm, but I also felt a strong urge to roast him. Lucas and I are only two years apart. We used to bathe in the same tub as kids. How can he even think about that? He might be able to, but I definitely can’t! [Brother, you will always be the best brother in my heart. I don’t want the shares. This home is wonderful, and I love you all very much. But it’s time for me to go back to my own home and return to the life that was meant for me.] Sarah looked at me with mockery and sneered. “Stop with the fake acting. If you were really willing to give up this luxurious life, you’d be packing your bags right now. Saying all this is just a tactic to make Mom, Dad, and Lucas think I’m forcing you out so they’ll hate me even more.” She looked at my parents with disgust, like she had nothing left to lose. “This house has no room for an outsider like me. The one who should leave isn’t her. It’s me.” With that, she ran upstairs, eyes red, grabbed her suitcase, and came back down. 2 Her suitcase was still packed from her arrival. She didn’t even need to organize. Seeing me still on the sofa digging for my charger and Switch, she scoffed again. “Dragging your feet. I knew you didn’t want to leave. It’s fine. If you won’t go, I will.” She turned to Dad, looking exhausted. “I don’t want a penny from you in the future. I don’t care about the shares. Just transfer my household registration back here. I want to get into Stanford, and I need the local residency status. As your biological daughter, is that too much to ask?” She stared at Dad coldly, looking like she saw right through him. Dad scratched his head, clearly having a headache. He ordered the butler. “Lock all the doors. Don’t let either of them leave.” Then he dragged Mom, who looked like a lost puppy, up to the third floor. “Come on, we need to figure out what to do. My head is splitting…” Mom looked sadly at Sarah and me. Clearly, neither she nor Dad wanted to give up either daughter. Lucas walked up to Sarah with a dark face, grabbed her suitcase, and carried it back to the guest room on the second floor. “What are you doing?” Sarah chased after him, furious. “This is illegal imprisonment! I’m calling the police!” Lucas threw the suitcase into the room, snatched her phone, tapped on it for a bit, and handed it back. Ding! My phone buzzed. It was a notification that Sarah had been added to the family group chat. Immediately after, I saw a transfer notification from Lucas to Sarah. $10,000. With a note: [Welcome home, Sarah!] That was his entire allowance for the month. I immediately followed suit and transferred her $10,000. [Welcome home, Sarah!] Then Mom and Dad sent a massive transfer. [Welcome home, Sarah! It was our fault we didn’t realize our daughter was switched. We will protect and compensate you from now on.] They sent $5,000,000. I paused. Since when were Mom and Dad this generous with cash? Sure enough, Mom sent another message. [Considering you’re young and don’t know how to manage finances, once your registration is transferred, Mom will open a new account for you and put this money in a trust. You can withdraw the interest every month. We’ll also give you an additional $10,000 monthly allowance. This is how we raised your brother and Paige.] Meaning, no favoritism. Sarah didn’t reply. She didn’t accept the money. She just glanced at Lucas and me. “Hypocrites!” Then she pushed Lucas out and slammed the door. Lucas looked at me, speechless. He saw me clutching my throat, slowly walking toward my room. “Paige, you’re not really thinking of leaving, are you?” “Don’t be silly. Your biological parents are a gambler and an alcoholic. Both have violent tendencies. When I grabbed her phone, I saw scars all over Sarah’s arms. You’ve been raised like a princess for eighteen years. If you go back, you’ll be beaten to death in days. Believe me?” “And if your illness relapses… sigh! Just don’t be stupid…” Of course I knew going back would be hell. People who would swap their own baby for a rich one aren’t exactly saints. [Brother, I will always love you.] Seeing that sentence, Lucas thought I had given up and let out a long sigh of relief. In the middle of the night, when the butler dozed off, I snuck out through the doggy door in the garden wall. Standing outside, I looked back at the elegant estate. The home I lived in for eighteen years. I wanted to cry. Dad, Mom, Lucas… I love you. If only I were really yours. But I’m not. I’m the reason your perfect family was broken. What right do I have to stay? Goodbye. 3 My biological parents lived in a dilapidated shack on the outskirts of City C. The shack was surrounded by a crumbling wall. Beyond the wall was a small forest and a creek. The other houses in the village were far away. It was like this family was intentionally isolated. Well! No wonder no one called the police despite Sarah being abused for years. In a place this remote, even if someone died, no one would know, right? 4 A large black dog lay at the entrance of the small courtyard. I got out of the taxi, clutching the address I stole from Dad’s study and the photo of the Lin family. The dog immediately bared its fangs and barked ferociously. “Woof! Woof!” “Who is it?” Hearing the dog, a young man with dyed yellow hair walked out. He was thin as a rail, wearing a red tank top, heavy eyeliner, and a neck full of cheap silver chains. His jeans were covered in studs. He stared at me for a second, looking weirded out. “Paige Lawson?” I nodded and forced out a painful greeting. “Brother… Dave?” Dave sneered. “Who’s your brother? Didn’t the Lawsons say they’d keep raising you? Why are you back? If you know what’s good for you, hand over the money you got from them and scram back to your rich life. You’re lucky to have such soft-hearted foster parents.” Yeah. How lucky am I to have lived with Mom and Dad for eighteen years? My throat hurt so bad. Speaking was torture. I looked down and scribbled on my tablet, my long hair hiding my expression. [I’m not going back! And I didn’t take much money from the Lawsons.] To make Sarah feel secure, I decided to cut ties completely. I changed my SIM card and abandoned my old social media accounts. The substantial savings my parents gave me over the years were in fixed deposits, and I didn’t bring the cards. “Didn’t take much? Who are you kidding?” Dave scoffed, clearly not buying it. I wrote seriously: [I only took $3,000 cash. I need it for medicine. Anti-inflammatories and sedatives are expensive.] Dave rolled his eyes. “You lived with the richest family in City A for eighteen years, and you only have that much? Who’d believe that? You cheapskate, you need a lesson. Blackie, sic her! Bite her ear off!” The dog listened to Dave perfectly. It lunged at me, jaws wide, aiming for my ear. I had developmental delays as a child; I’m only 4’11”. When the dog stood up, it was as tall as me. It opened its mouth, drooling stinking saliva onto my face. I got goosebumps from the disgust. Just as it was about to bite my ear, its eyes changed. It collapsed, convulsing in pain. “Whimper… whine…” It struggled for a moment, then stopped moving. Dave ran over in a panic. He saw blood gushing from the dog’s chest. “Blackie? Blackie?” He looked up, startled, and saw me holding a bloody tactical knife. “Paige! Blackie has been with me for ten years! He’s family! How could you be so cruel…” I ignored him. I calmly wiped the dog blood off the knife with a wet wipe. And off my face and clothes. Unfortunately, the blood spatter on my white dress wouldn’t come off.

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I was bitten by a zombie. The zombie stared at the blue blood oozing from my wound, frozen. “What are you looking at? I’m one of you,” I said calmly, pushing him away. I ran my other hand over the wound, and the torn flesh healed instantly. The zombie was stunned. “Stop staring. Look at you, all skin and bones… legs barely working. Go find something to eat,” I said with concern, patting him on the shoulder before walking away… 1 My name is Hedy, and I’m a pureblood vampire. The city teeming with zombies? That’s my masterpiece. I had been sealed at the bottom of the ocean for centuries until a scientist and his crew fished me out. The crystal coffin opened. The first thing I saw was a man in a white coat, wearing black-rimmed glasses. He was kind of handsome. Instead of being afraid, he said something incredibly cheesy in a gentle voice— “Are you lonely?” I rolled my eyes. “Duh. Try living for a few thousand years and tell me if you’re lonely,” I retorted, lying back down. I warned him that if he didn’t return me to the spot where I was sleeping, I’d drain him dry. He wasn’t fazed. Instead, he walked up to the coffin, resting his long, pale fingers on the edge, and leaned in to look at me. His voice was soft and slow, echoing clearly in the spacious, quiet lab. “If I could turn you into a human and end this endless loneliness, would you be willing?” Would I? Of course not! Loneliness aside, being a regular human is nowhere near as cool as being a vampire. But I thought this guy was talking big. I didn’t believe he had the power to turn me into a human, so I sat back up. 2 The guy introduced himself as Dr. Chen, a scientist. But not just any scientist. He came from a long line of researchers dedicated to studying the “vampire virus.” Generations ago, his ancestors discovered that a small percentage of humans were born with antibodies to the vampire virus. But vampires had essentially gone extinct over three hundred years ago. Unwilling to let generations of research go to waste, these scientists spent over a century tracking me down. And finally, in Dr. Chen’s generation, they found me. “After centuries of change, the original group of humans with antibodies is gone. But their descendants must still be out there…” Dr. Chen pushed up his glasses, the lenses flashing coldly. “Step one is to find a human carrier.” I laughed. “You went through all this trouble to find me just so I could help you find someone? Sorry, not interested.” Dr. Chen walked to a console and pressed a button. A hidden door in the lab slid open. He walked into the shadows and wheeled out a woman tied to a wheelchair with thick ropes. She had delicate features and almond eyes that darted around in terror. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was matted with sweat. A large gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking; she could only whimper in pain. When she saw me step out of the crystal coffin, her eyes widened in horror. “A woman?” I looked from her back to Dr. Chen, confused. “Data suggests her blood has an 80% chance of carrying the antibodies,” Dr. Chen replied. “Oh?” I was suddenly interested. Barefoot, I walked around the wheelchair, inspecting her. She wore a sharp suit with a collared shirt underneath and pointed leather heels. Is this what humans wear nowadays? “You want me to bite her?” I asked. The woman in the chair stiffened. Dr. Chen nodded. “Then wash her first.” Dr. Chen: “?” “I have high standards for hygiene.” 3 As a vampire who’s lived for thousands of years, I’ve evolved beyond needing blood to survive. For my first meal after centuries of sleep, I didn’t want someone who smelled like sweat and fear. After Dr. Chen wheeled her away, I explored the lab. I didn’t recognize anything. Just glowing rectangular slabs and weirdly shaped machines. A desk was piled with papers. I flipped through them—research on vampires. The bottom images showed monstrous creatures with green faces and fangs. I laughed and put them down. Fake news. Such ugly, image-less monsters were an insult to the inherent elegance of vampires. After a while, Dr. Chen brought the woman back. She was now wearing a soft white robe, her hair tied up to reveal a clean, pale neck. She looked fresh and vulnerable. Her eyes were covered with a white bandage wrapped around her head. I liked this detail. Who wants their food staring at them while they eat? I paced toward her, sensing her trembling. Maybe because I’d waited so long, I was getting impatient. I placed my hand on her head, tilting it to expose more of her neck. I found a vein pulsing with fresh blood. I bared my fangs and bit down. The soft vein pierced instantly. Warm, sweet blood flowed into my mouth. Even though I didn’t need blood to live, the instinct was hard to suppress. I held her neck, drinking greedily. I only stopped when I felt her body temperature drop and she fainted. Reluctantly, I let go. Humans are so fragile. If I wasn’t careful, I’d drain her dry. Seeing I was done, Dr. Chen approached with bandages and medicine, but I stopped him. I glanced at him and smirked. “No need for that.” I ran my hand over her neck. Where my fingers passed, the two puncture wounds vanished as if they never existed. Dr. Chen paused, clearly surprised by my ability. He pushed up his glasses and muttered, “Seeing is believing.” I took the clean towel he offered and wiped the blood from my lips, staring at the unconscious woman with mixed feelings. As a vampire, I had principles. I could accept humans as food, but I couldn’t tolerate them becoming monsters because of me. This was the first time I hadn’t drained a human dry. Although I could predict what she would become, a part of me hoped for a miracle. Through her blood, I gained her memories—her logic, her way of speaking, everything about being a modern human. This was another ability I had evolved. Her name was Sarah, a corporate executive. She was kidnapped by Dr. Chen on her way home from work. About ten minutes passed. She wasn’t fully awake, but her body started twitching. Dr. Chen looked excited, putting on thermal glasses to monitor her changes. I sat on the desk, waiting calmly. Something was wrong. The smell. The fresh, clean scent was rapidly turning into the stench of rotting flesh. Humans couldn’t smell it yet, but it was oozing from her blood through her skin. Dr. Chen moved closer with a notepad, recording her transformation. Her breathing grew heavy and rapid. Suddenly, she woke up with a guttural, beast-like roar. Her eyes turned a milky gray. Her skin became ashen and dry, thin as paper, revealing black veins underneath. She wasn’t Sarah anymore. She was a zombie created by me. And she had a craving for blood even stronger and wilder than mine. The moment those dead eyes saw us, she struggled violently. If the ropes weren’t thick enough, she would have broken free. Watching this, I glanced sideways at Dr. Chen. “Where did you get that 80% figure?” He ignored my sarcasm. His gaze on Sarah was filled with excitement and greed. For a scientist studying vampires, witnessing a human turn into a zombie was a massive breakthrough. He didn’t have time for my snark. “Experiment failed,” Dr. Chen said, finishing his notes. He looked at me. “But now we have a zombie virus carrier. We won’t need to trouble you for future experiments, Miss Hedy.” I looked at Sarah. Ten minutes ago, she was a normal human. Now she was a hideous monster. I felt a twinge of guilt. But I quickly squashed it. I had slept too long. I forgot how many lives had ended in my jaws. “Good luck to you,” I said, picking up a phone from the desk. Sarah’s memories told me it was hers. I waved the phone. “Call me if there’s progress.” 4 With Sarah’s memories, I now thought like a modern independent woman. Her WeChat wallet had enough money for me to splurge for a while. I used the PIN from her memories to pay for a new outfit. “Thank you for your purchase. Here is your receipt.” The cashier smiled kindly, handing me a slip of paper. “Throw it away for me,” I said, twirling in front of the mirror. The black dress flared out. As I walked out of the store, a WeChat call came in. Caller ID: Jason. Sarah’s crush. To avoid trouble, I hung up. The status changed to “Typing…”, then a message popped up: “Are you okay?” I typed: “I’m OK.” Sent. No reply. I searched my memories for his face. Handsome, but distant. I checked his Moments. Blank. Black profile pic, black background. Low enthusiasm, no interaction. No wonder he was just a crush. I put the phone away and instinctively walked toward a coffee shop. It was Sarah’s habit. She liked to work in a specific cafe on lazy afternoons. Human food didn’t satisfy me, but I didn’t hate it. Since I was awake, I might as well see what the world had become. Passing a small convenience store, I saw no customers. The owner, a woman in her forties, was eating spicy strips and sunning herself by the door. I glanced at her spicy strips; she glanced at my all-black outfit. Neither of us noticed the breaking news on the TV inside— “Serious riots have broken out across the city. Large numbers of violent individuals are attacking civilians indiscriminately. Please exercise caution and ensure your safety…”

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We were driving through a blinding blizzard in Aspen when my husband kicked me out of the car. He needed to lighten the load, he said, to ensure his “one true love” made it to her piano competition on time. I clung desperately to the door handle, begging, but he floored the gas. The car dragged me across the icy asphalt for thirty feet before my grip failed. Lying in the snow, watching his taillights fade into the white void, my heart turned to ash. I thought I would die on that mountain. Instead, a passerby found me. The trauma didn’t kill me; it woke me up. The memories I had lost in a plane crash eight years ago came flooding back. The first thing I did after waking up was erase the woman I had been for the last eight years. 1 “Miss, are you absolutely certain? Once we process this, the identity of ‘Kate Monroe’ will cease to exist. There will be no record of her.” I nodded, my expression hollow. “I’m sure.” My name wasn’t Kate Monroe anyway. I was Vivian Sterling. Eight years ago, I survived an aviation disaster but lost my memory. I washed up in the city, confused and alone. The Anderson family took me in, and eventually, I became their daughter-in-law. Jackson Anderson and I were once truly in love. We were the golden couple of our social circle. Until two years ago, when his first love returned from abroad. Then, everything rotted. I looked up at the massive LED screen in Times Square. It was broadcasting the National Piano Championship live. Just as expected, without me there to delay them, Lily Summers had taken first place. On screen, Jackson was smiling—a gentle, adoring look I hadn’t seen in years. “Lily is the champion of my heart. No one compares. As her manager, I couldn’t be prouder.” “Oh?” the interviewer teased. “Apologies, Mr. Anderson. I assumed the champion of your heart would be your wife.” Jackson chuckled, a dismissive sound. “In terms of marriage, yes, my wife is first. But when it comes to talent? It’s Lily, absolutely.” Watching from the sidewalk, I let out a short, sarcastic laugh. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t used in nearly a decade. “Pete. Come get me in New York. Seven days.” I turned away from the noise of the city and walked into a tattoo parlor. “Afternoon, miss. Looking for some ink?” “The name over my heart,” I said, my voice flat. “Remove it.” “J.A.? Those initials must mean a lot to you.” I looked down at my chest, then offered the artist a bitter smile. “Not anymore.” Four hours later, I walked home carrying a custom cake. Jackson was already back, lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up. “What’s the occasion? Why the cake?” The last embers of hope in my chest died out. Today was my birthday. “Nothing important,” I said softly. “Just felt like buying one.” “Perfect timing, actually. Lily won the competition today. I’ll take that to her celebration dinner.” He tossed his phone aside. At the mere mention of Lily, his eyes softened, his lips curving into a smile. I stood silent for a moment, then nodded. I went to the bedroom to change. Jackson barged in a moment later. “Kate, you should come to the party. You won that title five years in a row; your presence would be a great endorsement for her.” He stopped, frowning at my chest. “What happened to your tattoo? Why is it bandaged?” 2 “I got hurt when you dragged me with the car.” A flicker of guilt crossed Jackson’s face. “Well, thank god it’s just a scrape. That tattoo is the proof of our love; we can’t have it damaged.” I gave a perfunctory nod. “Mm. Understood.” His expression relaxed. “Go get ready. We need to leave for the party now.” The moment I slid into the passenger seat, the little bobblehead bear on the dashboard chimed. It was a custom recording, and Lily’s sickly-sweet voice filled the cabin. “Kiss kiss, big brother! Have a beautiful day!” Jackson’s face stiffened slightly. “Lily just recorded that as a joke. Don’t overthink it.” “Mm,” I replied, staring out the window. I didn’t say another word. I sat rigid, staring at the blurring city lights. Because under my heel, I could feel a tube of lipstick. It was Lily’s favorite brand. But I didn’t want to expose him. I didn’t want a fight. I had already decided to leave; arguing now felt like screaming at a wall. Halfway there, Jackson’s phone buzzed with messages from Lily. He had forgotten that his phone was still synced to the car’s display. Lily-Cat: When are you getting here, Jackson? I’m hungry. Jackson: Hungry again? Didn’t I just feed you in the car? You greedy little kitten. I stared at the screen, my mind involuntarily painting a picture of exactly how he had “fed” her in this very seat. Then it hit me. The lipstick under my foot… The nausea hit me like a physical blow. My mysophobia—my obsessive need for cleanliness—flared up, violent and overwhelming. I screamed for him to stop, threw the door open, and retched onto the pavement. 3 “Hurry up, Kate!” Jackson shouted, checking his watch. “I’m on a tight schedule!” There was no way in hell I was getting back into that car. Seeing me hesitate, Jackson scoffed and slammed the door. “Get in or don’t. I’m done coddling you!” He drove off. By the time I arrived at the venue, the party was in full swing. Towards the end of the night, Jackson grabbed my arm, wincing. “Kate, go buy me some ibuprofen. My stomach is killing me.” I wanted an excuse to leave anyway, so I turned and walked out. I was halfway to the elevator when I realized I’d left my phone. I doubled back to the private room, only to hear voices leaking through the crack in the door. “Jackson and Lily are getting bolder, aren’t they?” “Can you blame them? There’s a pharmacy downstairs. Kate will be back in ten minutes. They have to make every second count.” I gripped the door handle, my hand trembling uncontrollably. Everyone knew. The entire social circle knew they were sleeping together. I was the only fool playing house. From inside, Jackson’s voice drifted out, breathless and disjointed. “You guys… keep it down. If my wife hears… I’ll kill you.” Laughter erupted. “She’s not even here! She’ll never know.” I couldn’t listen to another second. I turned and fled. When I returned with the medicine, they were all sitting on the sofas, playing a drinking game. One of his friends spoke up. “Kate, you were the last to arrive, and you’re the only one who hasn’t given Lily a gift yet. Let’s guess what she brought!” During my years as the Anderson daughter-in-law, Jackson and his parents controlled every dime. I had no personal wealth. Seeing my hesitation, Jackson whispered, “Just give her a red envelope. Put it on my tab.” I set the medicine box on the table and spoke, my voice eerily calm. “The piano I used for five years. If you don’t mind it being second-hand.” The room went silent. Gasps echoed around the circle. That piano was a handcrafted masterpiece by Maestro Vane. It was the only one of its kind in the world. Jackson had spent six months begging Maestro Vane to sell it to him. It was his second-anniversary gift to me. The guests looked at me with expressions ranging from shock to pity. After arranging for movers to transport the piano, I went home to pack. My bedroom door slammed open. Jackson stood there, his face twisted in anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? You gave away the piano I bought you? To someone else?” 4 I looked up at him, my eyes dry. “Lily is better than me. A better pianist deserves a better instrument.” Jackson’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How did you know I said that?” “It was broadcast on every screen in the city, Jackson. I saw it on the street.” He froze. Those were his words to the reporter. He couldn’t deny them. “Even so! You can’t just give it away! That was a symbol of our anniversary!” I smiled faintly. “So?” Jackson stared at me, sensing a shift. “Kate… what does that mean? Are you trying to leave me?” “If you fall in love with someone else,” I said, “I will leave you. Permanently.” Jackson laughed, a cruel, arrogant sound. “Go ahead and try. Everything you have in this world, I gave you. Without me, where would you go? Don’t forget, Kate, you can’t divorce me unless I agree to it.” But I wasn’t Kate Monroe. I was Vivian Sterling. And that marriage license meant nothing to me. Jackson stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing purr. “Don’t even think about leaving. Be a good girl and stay home. I’ll give you whatever you want. Remember your place, wifey.” I smiled. We’ll see about that. For the next four days, I systematically erased my existence from the house. My clothes in good condition went to charity. The old ones went into the fireplace. I deleted every social media account associated with “Kate Monroe.” I went to the government offices and transferred all relevant documents. Jackson noticed none of this. He and Lily had flown to Monaco to celebrate her victory. Monaco was practically their second home. They flew there whenever the mood struck. Three days left. Lily sent me a photo. A little girl eating a candied apple. Baby wanted sweets today, so Daddy made her the biggest one he could find! ~ It wasn’t the first time she’d sent photos, but I had never understood the connection. Why send me a child? This time, the girl’s face was visible. The realization hit me like a physical slap. The girl was a miniature copy of Jackson and Lily. It was their daughter. So this was why he never wanted children with me. Pathetic. Two days left. Jackson organized a private fireworks display for Lily. An eight-million-dollar show. Big brother said it was worth it just to see me smile. Eight million dollars. It was beautiful, I had to admit. He once promised to watch fireworks with me. He never did. And now, he never would. One day left. This time, Lily didn’t send a photo. She sent an audio file. It was a recording of them in bed. His low, guttural groans. Her high-pitched cries of pleasure. I listened to it once. I smiled, a cold, detached thing. I placed the phone on the desk next to a sealed envelope. I shouldered my only backpack and walked out of the “home” I had lived in for eight years. My extraction team was waiting at the airport, standing in perfect formation. As I was about to board the private jet, Jackson called. Wifey, I’m back from my trip. I’m coming to pick you up for dinner. He was back, alright. With Lily and his illegitimate daughter in tow. Dinner is in an hour, I typed back. Can you make it? Through the glass terminal wall, I saw him. He was kneeling, tying the little girl’s shoelaces. He was about to reply when Lily leaned down and kissed him. “Honey, you promised to take us to the amusement park first! If we don’t go now, we won’t have time to fly Bella back to Monaco later.” The little girl tugged his hand. “Daddy, please! I want to go on the rides!” Finally, a message appeared on my screen: Kate, something came up at work. Let’s move dinner to three days from now. I let out a soft laugh and powered off the phone. I put on my oversized sunglasses. Flanked by bodyguards, I walked through the terminal, brushing right past Jackson. He spun around, staring at my back. “That woman… she looked just like Kate.” Lily laughed, linking her arm through his. “Don’t be ridiculous. That woman is surrounded by security. She’s clearly a VIP. Since when is Kate Monroe a VIP?” Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re right.” “Come on, Bella! To the amusement park!” The intercom crackled overhead, the final announcement of my old life fading away. Flight G1382, you are cleared for takeoff. Have a safe journey.

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After the college entrance exam results came out, Leo, a scholarship student in our class, only scored a measly 200 points. Yet, he somehow convinced my two childhood best friends to apply for the worst vocational college with him. Blindly infatuated, they both agreed to go to the same school as him. I tried to reason with them, pouring my heart out, but they accused me of being malicious and jealous of Leo. When my pleas fell on deaf ears, I contacted their parents. Finally, just moments before the deadline, their applications were changed, securing their spots at top-tier universities. Leo ended up at the vocational college alone. But within six months, news broke that he had jumped off a building on campus. After Sarah and Zoe went to collect his body, they returned and kidnapped me to a rooftop. “If you hadn’t stopped us from going to the same school as Leo, he wouldn’t have been bullied into suicide!” “Now, you’re going to join him!” Without a shred of mercy, they pushed me off the edge. I fell to my death, my body shattering on impact. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment they decided to follow Leo to vocational college. This time, I’m just going to watch them ruin their own lives. 1 “Leo is right. It’s better to be a big fish in a small pond. I’ve decided to go to vocational college with him.” “With our scores, we’ll definitely be the stars of the campus there.” Hearing Sarah and Zoe agree to go with him, Leo beamed with joy. He then turned his gaze to me. “Ray, come with us too. The four of us have always been a team. I really don’t want to be separated from you guys.” Looking at the three familiar faces, I instantly realized I had been reborn. I was back to the day the exam scores were released. Sarah, Zoe, and I all scored near 700, enough for the country’s best universities. But Leo, the scholarship kid with barely 200 points, was trying to drag us down to a vocational school with him. This time, if they want to go, they can go. I won’t say a single word to stop them. I stood up immediately. “Choosing a college is a big deal. I need to discuss it with my parents before I decide.” Leo’s face fell instantly, looking wronged. “Ray, don’t you want to be with us?” I was done with his manipulative act. I didn’t want to waste another breath on him. In this life, I just want to stay safe and far away from these three lunatics. I turned to pack my things and leave, but Sarah and Zoe blocked my path. “Ray Shen, what do you mean by that? Leo made a kind suggestion. Just give us a straight answer, yes or no. We don’t have all day to wait for you!” “You’re eighteen. Can’t you think for yourself? Don’t you know where you want to go to college?” I looked at them. The image of their twisted faces as they pushed me off a 36-story building in my past life flashed before my eyes. A chill ran down my spine. “Since you put it that way, I’ll be direct. My first choice is definitely Tsinghua or Peking University. As for that no-name vocational school, you guys can go ahead without me.” As soon as I finished, Leo’s eyes welled up with tears. “Ray, what does that mean? Are you looking down on me because I can only go to a vocational college?” Zoe pulled out a tissue to wipe his tears. “Leo, don’t cry. Even if you go to a vocational school, we’re willing to go with you.” “Some people think going to a university makes them special, but they’ll just end up working for someone else anyway. I don’t know where he gets his superiority complex!” Sarah pointed an accusing finger at me. “Ray Shen, I think you’re just jealous of Leo, so you’re putting him down on purpose. Apologize to him right now, or don’t expect us to ever talk to you again!” 2 Their blind defense of Leo chilled me to the bone. We grew up together. They were like family to me. They once swore they’d always be good to me, that no matter who I chose to be with, they’d offer their sincerest blessings. But everything changed in our junior year of high school when Leo transferred here. He told me he was the scholarship student my family had been sponsoring and brought me sweet potatoes from his village as a thank you. Seeing how simple and sincere he seemed, I introduced him to Sarah and Zoe. I never expected that from then on, they would change. They poured all their attention and care into Leo, constantly using our friendship to force me to bow down to him. I was the fool in my past life, holding onto hope for them, which led to my death. Now, I wish I could be galaxies away from them. “Then let’s not contact each other anymore. You go to your vocational school, I’ll go to my university. Let’s pretend we never knew each other.” Sarah and Zoe clearly didn’t expect that answer. They stiffened. I ignored them, grabbed my laptop bag, and started to leave. But Leo snatched the bag from my hands. “Ray, I know you’ve always liked Sarah and Zoe. You’re just saying these things out of anger. To stop you from regretting it later, I’ll fill out the application for you.” Leo opened my laptop, ready to log in to my account and submit the application on my behalf. I panicked and lunged to grab my computer back, but he hid behind Sarah and Zoe, using them as shields. I couldn’t get past the two of them alone. I could only watch helplessly as Leo filled out the vocational school application for me. After submitting it, Leo handed the laptop back, unable to hide the smug look in his eyes. “I used up all three modification chances for the application. Now you have to come to vocational school with us.” Rage exploded inside me. I raised my hand to slap Leo. “Who gave you the right to decide for me?!” Sarah grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and shoved me hard. I stumbled and fell. She screamed, “Leo did this for your own good! Instead of being grateful, you’re biting the hand that feeds you!” Zoe looked down at me haughtily. “The application is submitted. It’s a done deal. Just come to vocational school with us quietly.” “Leo already promised that once school starts, he’ll choose one of us to be his girlfriend. The one who isn’t chosen can reluctantly be your girlfriend.” I looked up at them coldly. “Do I look like a recycling bin? Only good for picking up Leo’s trash?” Sarah and Zoe glared at me furiously. Leo grabbed their arms. “Sarah, Zoe, don’t be mad. Ray will understand eventually that we did this for him.” “The movie is about to start. Let’s go.” The three of them turned and walked toward the cinema upstairs. I looked at the submitted application on my screen, feeling a desolate emptiness. Even reborn, could I not escape the fate of being entangled with these three scumbags? I hugged my laptop and went home to find my parents. Seeing them, the floodgates opened. Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. My mom wiped my tears. “Ray, what happened?” Choking back sobs, I told them everything. My dad slammed his hand on the table, furious. “This is outrageous! That ungrateful wolf Leo! Our family sponsored his education, and this is how he repays us?” My mom was equally anxious. “Ray’s application has been changed. What do we do?” My dad immediately called my teacher to ask if a submitted application could be revoked. 3 The teacher said that before the deadline, applications could be modified an unlimited number of times. The “three times limit” was just something teachers said to make us take the process seriously. The application was fixed, but I knew things with Leo and the girls weren’t over. Since they wouldn’t let me go in my past life or this one, I wasn’t going to sit and wait for death again. Once my plan was set, the heavy stone in my heart finally lifted. Leo thought my enrollment in vocational school was a sure thing, so he went on a trip with Sarah and Zoe. He sent me photos of them being intimate every day. [Ray Shen, it must hurt seeing the two women you love simping for me, huh?] [Sarah and Zoe said they’d rather be my backups than choose you. As a man, don’t you feel like a total failure?] Facing his provocations, I felt nothing. Because I knew his good days were numbered. When the Tsinghua University acceptance letter arrived, the property management sent a message in the resident group chat. [A student in our community has been accepted to Tsinghua University! The management will award them 100,000 RMB as encouragement. Residents are invited to attend the ceremony tomorrow!] This was a tradition in our community. Acceptance letters from top universities like Tsinghua and Peking were first sent to the management office for a ceremony. The group chat exploded with congratulations. Sarah’s mom sent a voice note: “Thank you all for the blessings. My Sarah will work even harder in college!” Residents immediately started flattering her, asking for parenting tips. Then Zoe’s mom chimed in with a voice note: “The one accepted to Tsinghua is obviously my Zoe. Sarah’s mom, have some shame, don’t claim what isn’t yours!” Sarah’s Mom: “You’re the shameless one! Sarah scored 694. She told me she was accepted to Tsinghua.” Zoe’s Mom: “Zoe scored 697! If anyone got in, it’s her. Don’t you know one point in the exams separates thousands of people? Let alone three points!” They argued back and forth, both claiming their daughter got into Tsinghua. Watching the messages pop up, I smirked. I wondered if they’d faint from anger if they knew their daughters had applied to the worst vocational school just for a broke boy. Finally, property management stepped in to mediate, confirming only one student got into Tsinghua, and the name would be revealed at the ceremony tomorrow. Because of the argument, a huge crowd showed up for the ceremony. Everyone wanted to see whose kid got into Tsinghua. Before the ceremony started, Leo and the girls came up to me. He looked at me and said, “Ray, you should have reflected enough by now. If you sincerely apologize and promise that your family will continue to sponsor my tuition and living expenses at vocational school, we can still be best friends.” “But vocational school is expensive. It can’t be 2,000 a month anymore. I need at least 10,000 a month.” I almost laughed at his shamelessness. “Leo, let me tell you this: from now on, my family won’t give you a single cent!” Leo’s eyes reddened, and he looked at Sarah and Zoe. They immediately scolded me. “Ray Shen, don’t be ungrateful! Leo accepting your family’s sponsorship is giving you face!” “If you don’t agree to Leo’s request today, don’t expect us to look out for you at school!” I sneered at them. “You two should worry about yourselves first!” The host on stage, holding the Tsinghua acceptance letter, shouted, “Please welcome the student from Building 17, Unit 502, Ray Shen, to the stage to receive the Tsinghua University acceptance letter and the 100,000 RMB reward!” Under everyone’s gaze, I walked up to receive my letter. Sarah’s mom and Zoe’s mom rushed the stage, screaming. “Impossible! There must be a mistake! This letter belongs to my Zoe!” “The one accepted to Tsinghua should be my Sarah!” Just then, a postman in green walked to the front of the stage and shouted, “Sarah Zhang, Zoe Guo, your acceptance letters have arrived.” 4 The noisy crowd instantly went silent. Sarah’s mom and Zoe’s mom snapped out of it and rushed off the stage to snatch the letters from the postman. They complained loudly: “What’s wrong with you? Why are you slower than everyone else? Were you slacking off?” “Others got their letters ages ago, and you just brought ours today? You almost ruined my daughter’s big moment! I’m going to file a complaint!” They grabbed the letters, cursing, and tried to hand them to the host without even opening them. Sarah and Zoe rushed to stop them. “Mom, the letter just arrived. Let’s open it at home.” “Mom, I want to share the joy with Dad. Let’s go home and wait for him.” They hadn’t dared to tell their families about applying to vocational school. They thought once the letter arrived, the deed would be done, and they’d just get scolded. If people found out now, in front of everyone, their moms would go crazy. But their moms were too focused on outdoing each other to listen. Sarah’s mom beamed. “Why be shy? Everyone is here to celebrate your success!” Zoe’s mom looked arrogantly at the host. “You said 100,000 for getting into Tsinghua. My daughter’s letter was late, but you can’t renege on the deal!” The host replied, “It’s tradition. If they really got into Tsinghua, the money is theirs.” Their eyes lit up. To ordinary working-class families, 100,000 was a year’s salary. They eagerly handed the unopened envelopes to the host. Sarah’s mom hugged her daughter. “Sarah, you made me so proud! All my hard work paid off!” Zoe’s mom looked at Zoe approvingly. “Zoe, this 100,000 is all yours for pocket money.” Neighbors chimed in: “I can’t believe our community produced three Tsinghua/Peking students this year! What a joyous occasion!” “With three top students, property prices are going to soar!” “The mothers are the real heroes here!” Applause broke out. The moms basked in the praise, oblivious to their daughters’ paling faces. The host took the letters, tore open the seals, and pulled out the documents. He announced loudly: “Let us congratulate Sarah Zhang and Zoe Guo on their acceptance to… New West Vocational College?” The crowd buzzed with confusion. “Not Tsinghua? Why is it a vocational college?” “That’s not Tsinghua. Look, the letter is different from Ray Shen’s.” “New West Vocational? Isn’t that the worst one in the country? You can get in with 200 points.” The moms ran up, snatched the letters, read them repeatedly, then turned to their daughters. “Sarah, what is this?” “Zoe, didn’t you apply to Tsinghua? Why is it vocational school?” Sarah and Zoe hung their heads, stammering in silence. Leo suddenly looked at me and spoke up. “Ray Shen, we trusted you so much! Why did you change our applications?”

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Three months pregnant, and my own husband sent me to prison. Before signing the confession, I asked him one last time, “Can I… not take the fall for this?” “You’re pregnant. You can apply to serve your sentence outside of prison. You won’t suffer.” “But Lila can’t. She’s not strong enough. Jail time would kill her.” He even made a promise. “Think of it as a sacrifice for our child’s future. When you get out, we’ll get married.” I asked him, “You once told me I owed her a life. Are we even now?” Kim Vance nodded and said he would be grateful to me for the rest of his life. So, I signed the confession. But just before I walked through the prison gates, I terminated the pregnancy. Later, Kim truly lost his mind. He would grab me, his eyes bloodshot, and demand to know why I had killed his child. I would just look at him, my gaze cold as ice. “Because my child can’t have a mother in prison, and a monster for a father.” “Everything that happened before… I was naive.” “From this moment on, Kim.” “We’re even.” 1 The day I was released from prison, no one came to pick me up. The guard walked me to the gate. Seeing the empty street outside, she asked how I would get home. I didn’t have a single dollar on me. The bag in my hand held the only clothes I owned, and it felt weightless. Like my life, carrying no weight at all. I squinted at the brilliant sun and smiled. “I’ll figure it out. I may not have money, but I have feet.” The guard hesitated, reaching for her wallet. “It’s okay. My home isn’t far from here. It’s a quick walk,” I said, declining her kindness. I picked up my bag and started the journey home. I had expected no one would come, so before I went in, I had memorized the map. From the prison to my apartment was a two-hour and seventeen-minute walk. Not too far, really. In a year and a half, the city hadn’t changed much. The stadium that had been under construction before I went in was still only half-finished. While waiting at a red light, my gaze drifted to a baby stroller next to me. The mother noticed me looking and gave me a kind smile. I smiled back. “How old is your little one?” “One year.” “So cute,” I said, bending down to make a silly face at the baby. The baby gurgled, waving tiny fists in the air. The light turned green. I straightened up and disappeared into the surging crowd. I finally reached my front door just as dusk was settling. The old security door was covered in a thick layer of dust. I found the spare key in the mailbox and let myself in. On the shoe cabinet sat a framed photo. I picked it up, using my sleeve to wipe away the dust, and managed a faint smile. “Mom, I’m home.” 2 It took some time to reintegrate myself into society. With a criminal record, finding a job was a struggle. To make ends meet, I took a job sorting packages at a logistics warehouse. A week later, I collapsed on the warehouse floor and was rushed to the hospital by my coworkers. The abortion, followed by the harsh reality of prison life, had taken its toll on my body. I couldn’t push myself like I used to. I had to quit. I signed up as a delivery driver, planning to save up for a couple of years and maybe start a small business. These days, a bachelor’s degree isn’t worth much. A bachelor’s degree with a prison record is worth even less. Driving for a delivery service was still tough work, but it was better than the warehouse. The hours were flexible, which suited me. I had a good weekend, and just before I was about to log off for the night, a large order came in with a high delivery fee. The distance was far, and I worried my e-scooter didn’t have enough charge. But I couldn’t bring myself to pass up the money. I accepted the order. The drop-off was at an exclusive, notoriously expensive private club. When I arrived, I called the customer, and he told me to bring it directly to his private room. The delivery box was huge. I struggled to carry it, found the room, and knocked. “Hi, your delivery. Please sign here.” “Just put it over there.” The familiar voice made my eyelashes tremble. I silently did as I was told, placing the box in a corner. The room was alive with noise and laughter, filled with a dozen men and women. Luxury gift boxes were piled in a corner. In the center of the room, a magnificent three-tiered cake sat on a table. I was about to leave when someone called out, “Hey, delivery girl, wait a second.” I froze. “It’s my birthday today. Please, have a slice of cake. Thanks for bringing our food this late at night.” I looked up. My face was mostly hidden by my helmet, so no one recognized me. The woman standing before me had a face that was both beautiful and vulnerable. She smiled and held out a piece of cake. Her name was Lila. She used to be my friend. A sharp pain, like a shard of glass, pierced through me, so deep it felt like it was in my bones. It was hard to speak. I took the cake, my voice raspy. “Thank you.” As I turned to leave, I didn’t notice the figure that had appeared behind me. By the time I saw him, it was too late to stop. I watched, helpless, as the cake splattered across his chest, ruining his shirt. Kim looked down at the sticky mess, then up at me. He said nothing. The room had fallen silent. Someone snickered. “That shirt’s a goner. It’s a fifteen-thousand-dollar shirt. Can you afford to replace that?” “It’s okay, don’t be scared. It was an accident. We won’t make you pay. You can go,” Lila said, rushing over. She soothed me with a gentle voice while grabbing a napkin to clean Kim’s shirt. Kim didn’t move. He just kept staring at me. Then, he reached out and pulled off my helmet. 3 No one looks good after wearing a helmet for a long time. The room was now completely silent. Even the music had stopped. I smoothed down my messy hair and held out my hand to Kim. “Had enough of a look? Can I have my helmet back?” “Is that… Candy? You’re out? So soon? Weren’t you sentenced to three years?” someone in the room finally spoke. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on Kim. “Candy,” Lila said, grabbing my wrist. “Why didn’t you call me when you got out? There’s so much I want to tell you.” I paid her no mind, my only goal to retrieve my helmet. But Kim wouldn’t let go. I had to use some force, but I finally yanked it back. “If you don’t mind, a five-star rating would be appreciated,” I said, forcing a smile. I put my helmet back on and walked out. “Candy, don’t you have anything to say?” Kim’s voice stopped me at the door. I turned, my gaze falling on Lila. My tone was flat. “Happy birthday, Lila.” On the way home, just as I’d feared, my e-scooter died. I had to get off and push it the rest of the way. In the dead of night, a few luxury cars sped past me. I kept my eyes on the road, carefully navigating around potholes, focused only on pushing the scooter home. It was past midnight when I finally arrived. I made myself a simple bowl of noodles and ate it in the dark, the dim yellow glow of the streetlights outside casting long shadows in my small apartment. I wasn’t sleepy after I ate, so I took out my mother’s photo and sat by the window, talking to myself. “Mom, are you doing okay over there? Did you get the money I burned for you?” “Have you met my baby? Is he cute?” “Please, help him find a perfect mother next time. Don’t let him be so unlucky as to end up with me again.” “Mom, I miss you.” 4 That night, I had a dream for the first time in a long while. I dreamed of the past. I hadn’t dreamed in ages. The year and a half in prison had smoothed away what little fight I had left in me. I rarely thought about the past. Life in prison was rigid: wake up, work, eat, sleep. It was hell at first. I would sit on my cot, eyes wide open, counting the seconds until dawn. But eventually, I adapted. And then, I stopped thinking at all. It’s too painful to live with your eyes wide open. Being numb is better. It doesn’t matter if you can’t feel happiness, as long as you don’t feel too much pain. But the girl in my dream was so vibrant, her smile so full of life. When I woke up, a wave of sadness washed over me. How had I become this person? The woman in the mirror had empty, lifeless eyes. I tried to force a cheerful smile, practicing for a world I no longer recognized. The knock on the door came while the smile was still plastered on my face. It froze the moment I saw Kim standing outside. He saw my lack of reaction and spoke first. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” “I’d rather not,” I said, my hand tight on the doorknob. “What do you want?” He held out a business card. “Call this person. He’ll arrange a job for you.” “Thank you for the offer, but no.” He let out a short, derisive laugh, as if my pride was pathetic. “Candy, don’t push your luck.” I just stared at him, silent. Kim looked away. “Even though you got rid of the baby without talking to me, my offer still stands.” It took me a long moment to remember the promise he had made before I went to prison. He had said he would marry me when I got out. A real smile finally touched my lips. Kim visibly relaxed. “Stop being angry. Lila said she’s grateful to you, too. We should all get together sometime…” “Kim, that was your promise, not mine. It doesn’t count.” I cut him off, watching the relief drain from his face. My voice was soft. “I’m not so pathetic that I would marry a man who doesn’t love me, who has never even respected me.” “All I have ever wanted was for us to be even.” “Even if it meant sacrificing my future.” 5 Kim left. His parting words were, “Candy, don’t regret this.” I soon understood what he meant. During the lunch rush, I came out from a delivery to find my e-scooter gone. Along with it, a dozen orders I hadn’t yet delivered. I stood on the sidewalk, phone in hand, staring blankly at the street. People hurried past me, their lives uninterrupted. I had to call each customer, one by one, to apologize and offer compensation. Then I reported the theft to the police. They told me the security camera in that area was broken. They would try to find my scooter, but they couldn’t make any promises. I walked out of the police station and looked at the string of one-star reviews and complaints on my delivery app. I took a deep breath and managed a weak, humorless smile. I had enough money in my account to buy another scooter. But what if the second one was stolen, too? I crouched on the sidewalk for a long time, lost in thought, until a little girl with a backpack timidly tapped my shoulder. “Miss, are you okay?” I smiled at her. “I’m just a little tired, sweetie. Resting for a minute.” She thought for a moment, then pulled a candy from her pocket and offered it to me. “Here, have a candy.” “Thank you.” Fueled by that small act of kindness, I found the strength to go home and start working on my resume. A regular company wouldn’t hire me, but there were always smaller businesses with lower standards. But my criminal record was a constant obstacle. In every interview, the question would come up. “You’ve been to prison?” I’d nod. “Yes.” “For a hit-and-run?” “Yes.” “But… you don’t have a driver’s license?” “That’s correct.” The HR manager would fall silent, then politely hand my resume back, saying they’d “consider” it. I thought of Kim telling me that Lila was too fragile for prison. He never considered that because I didn’t have a license, my sentence would be harsher. But that was to be expected. You can’t ask someone who has never cared about you to see things from your perspective. Every interview was a dead end. To avoid burning through my savings, I started applying for waitress jobs. But I never imagined that even for that, no one would hire me. As I walked out of the last restaurant, a heavy rain began to fall. I stood under the awning, watching the water drip from the roof, then slowly stepped out into the downpour. The rain wasn’t heavy enough to blur my vision. But my vision blurred anyway. It was the kind of pain that comes from knowing you’ve been wronged, but having no one in the world to tell. 6 Kim was waiting for me downstairs, holding an umbrella. I saw him from a distance and stopped walking. He saw me and started toward me, stopping a few feet away. “Have you accepted reality yet?” he asked. I looked at him, my voice steady. “Kim, you said you would be grateful to me for the rest of your life.” “So?” “This isn’t gratitude,” I said. “You can’t do this to me.” The rain must have soaked through to my brain. My words were so weak, so powerless. Of course he could do this to me. I had nothing. No powerful family, no wealth, not even friends or relatives to support me. He could humiliate me, frame me, pin any crime he wanted on me. I just never realized he hated me that much. That he wouldn’t even let me live. He closed the distance between us. The umbrella blocked the pouring rain. It also blocked out all the light. In the shadows, he reached out and touched my cheek. This, he told me, was the price for wanting us to be even. “Then what do you want from me?” I whispered. “You don’t want my love. You don’t want us to be even. So, I guess I have to die, right?”

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My husband is the loyal best friend in a dark romance novel—the handsome, stoic doctor to the brooding, billionaire anti-hero. Tonight, as a fever of one-hundred-and-three cooked me from the inside out, he took the forty-ninth call from that same best friend. It was a plea for him to go check on the ankle of the female lead, Lily Evans. My hand, weak and trembling, caught the hem of his shirt. He pried my fingers away without a moment’s hesitation. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen Damien care about a woman like this,” he said, his voice clipped with urgency. “I have to help him. This is it for him, Audrey.” When I woke up in the hospital, the first thing they told me was that the baby was gone. Lost in a fog of grief, I saw the comments appear at the edge of my vision. Over? Who the hell said it was over? 1 My fingers trembled as I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years, a number belonging to my childhood friend, the man they were calling the “final boss” villain, the one the comments said was about to jump off a skyscraper. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a villain,” I said when he answered. “If you can’t do the job right, I’ll do it myself.” “It’s just a sprained ankle, Damien. Are you sure you’re not overreacting? Audrey’s burning up. Her fever is almost one-oh-four.” A pause. Then, a long, put-upon sigh from my husband, Marcus. “Alright, alright, I get it… Christ, I swear I must owe you from a past life. The first time you ever give a damn about a woman… Fine. I’m on my way.” I summoned the last of my strength, my arm shaking as I reached out. The moment the bedroom door opened, my fingers managed to snag a fistful of his impeccably pressed shirt. “Don’t go,” I rasped, the word tearing at my raw throat. It didn’t even sound like my own voice. “Marcus, I feel… really sick.” “Audrey, don’t be dramatic.” He was already pulling away. “Lily’s ankle is swelling up like a balloon, and Damien’s losing his mind. This is the first woman he’s ever really fallen for. As his best friend, it’s my job to make sure he doesn’t screw this up.” Gently, but with an unmistakable finality, my husband uncurled my fingers from his shirt. The soft click of the front door locking sounded like something inside me splintering. I tried to push myself up, to get the glass of water on the nightstand, but the room tilted and spun. My body hit the cold, hardwood floor with a heavy thud. The last thing I did before the world went black was dial 9-1-1. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. We weren’t able to save the pregnancy.” I lay in the sterile hospital bed, the doctor’s words echoing in the hollow space of my mind. What would Marcus’s face look like if he knew he’d just lost a child he never even knew he had? I waited until noon to call him. When he picked up, I could hear the triumphant joy in his voice before he even realized it was me. He was clearly talking to someone else in the room. “Damien, you bastard, you better treat her right! Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to ditch my own wife for you two?” He chuckled, then his tone shifted as he finally noticed the call was connected. “Audrey? Hey. How are you feeling?” My hand drifted to my stomach, to the place that had so briefly held a spark of life. “If you had to choose,” I asked, my voice flat, “between me and Damien’s love story, who would you pick?” There was a definite pause. Then, a light laugh, laced with confusion. “Audrey, what’s gotten into you? Why would you ask something like that?” “Answer me, Marcus.” He didn’t. He must have put the phone on speaker. A soft, sweet voice trickled through the receiver, trying to soothe him. “Dr. Cole, it was all Damien’s fault for overreacting and dragging you out in the middle of the night. I’m sure your wife is just upset. I’m fine, really. You should go be with her.” I recognized that voice. It belonged to Lily Evans, the woman my husband’s best friend, Damien Blackwood, had been chasing for three years. Marcus’s voice came back, dripping with the fond, patronizing tone he always used when I was being “difficult.” “Did a little fever turn my invincible Audrey into such a sentimental mess? Don’t make me look bad in front of Damien…” He softened his tone, trying to placate me. “Listen, honey, I have to cover a shift tonight. I’ll be home tomorrow after work, and I’ll make you dinner, okay? Be good.” I hung up the phone. That made things simple. The truth was, Marcus never even knew I was pregnant. Now, after the miscarriage, the doctors wanted to keep me for observation for a couple of days. I wouldn’t even have to come up with an excuse for not being home. <…but his wife had a really high fever. Isn’t it a little messed up to abandon your sick wife to take care of someone else?> I lay in that hospital bed for a half an hour, just staring at the strange, transparent comments scrolling across my vision. It took me that long to piece it together. The world I inhabited wasn’t real. It was a story. A long, cliché, dark romance novel. My husband, Dr. Marcus Cole, was a stock character: the loyal best friend to the possessive alpha-male protagonist. The one who would do anything for his bro. The time Marcus spent by Damien’s side would always be more than the time he spent by mine. And it was all because of Damien Blackwood’s obsessive, all-consuming love for Lily Evans. A love story built on a foundation of clichés: possessive stalking passed off as romance, kidnappings, car crashes, and forced proximity. Lily was always getting hurt, and every single time, one call from Damien was all it took for Marcus to drop everything—including me. “You know how he is, Audrey,” he’d always say. “Damien’s never felt this way about anyone before. I have to help him.” So that was it. My entire life, our entire marriage, was dictated by a plot device. By a character archetype. A tidal wave of grief and fury crashed over me, stealing the air from my lungs. Because I was only a few weeks along and otherwise healthy, I only needed two days of recovery at the hospital. When I got home, Marcus wasn’t there. Valentine’s Day. Two months ago. That was the day the test came back positive. I’d planned everything. A candlelight dinner, his favorite wine. I was going to tell him, to surprise him. I waited all night. Just after midnight, my phone finally rang. “Audrey, I’m so sorry,” he’d said, his voice rushed. “Vanessa got taken along with Lily. I have to go with Damien. Eat without me tonight.” At that point, Marcus had already been running himself ragged for weeks, cleaning up messes from Damien and Lily’s turbulent romance. I was so worried about him that night, I just sat on the couch until the sun came up. It turns out, while I was sick with worry, my husband had his arms around another woman. From the looks of these comments, my world—this story—was rapidly approaching its finale. I clutched the discharge papers in my hand, the crisp paper crinkling under the pressure. A chilling, profound sense of absurdity seized my heart. A side-character romance? A perfect pairing? My baby was dead. Dead because my husband abandoned me for a scratch on his best friend’s girlfriend. And in the eyes of this world, this story, that was just a necessary plot point on the way to a “happily ever after”? To hell with their happy ending. A searing hatred, white-hot and absolute, burned away the last of my tears. The end? Who the hell said it was over? That comment made me sit bolt upright. I snatched my phone, my fingers flying across the screen, dialing a number I hadn’t used in three years. The voice that answered was brittle, hollowed out with despair. “Who is this? If you’re calling to laugh, just get it over with…” “It’s your goddamn conscience,” I said. He gasped, a sharp intake of breath. “Audrey?! Is that you?” The comments said he already had one foot over the ledge. “Sebastian Croft,” I bit out, “they don’t let you bungee jump off residential buildings in this city.” I heard a frantic shuffling sound as he stumbled back from the edge. “Audrey? You’re—you’re supposed to be dead!” “It’s only been three years, and you’re already wishing me dead? I’ll outlive you all,” I snapped. Three years ago, my father’s company in the States was targeted by a vicious corporate takeover. He made the call to move the entire family and our operations overseas to Europe. I only came back last year, alone, after I fell in love with Marcus, who was attending a medical conference in London. Sebastian seemed to be processing this. “Old Mrs. Gable from next door told my mom your dad’s company went under and he… took the whole family with him. I thought you were gone.” …Right. I remembered her. Mrs. Gable, the neighborhood gossip who could spin a whole epic from a single wrong-number phone call. After a long silence, I couldn’t hold back my disgust. “And with an IQ like that, you thought you could play the villain? You’re pathetic, Sebastian. If you can’t handle the job, then let me.” I met him at his apartment. “You look like hell,” he said, his voice raspy. He looked more mature than I remembered, the boyish charm replaced by a weary hardness. There was a nervous energy about him as he paced the marble floors. I dropped onto his sprawling designer sofa and looked him up and down. “You’d look like hell too if you’d just had a miscarriage.” Sebastian froze, his face hardening into a mask of fury. “A miscarriage? What the hell happened?” I met his gaze and told him everything. He paced the room, his hand reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the counter before he glanced at me and shoved it back into his pocket. “The great Sebastian Croft, eldest son of the Croft dynasty, can’t even get the girl and lets his rival drive him to the brink of suicide.” I shook my head in mock sympathy. “Your father would be so ashamed.” “I don’t even like Lily Evans,” he muttered, his jaw tight. “And I was just getting some fresh air on the roof.” I raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you go to war with Damien Blackwood over her?” The tips of his ears turned red. He shot a glance away from me. “Because… she reminded me of someone.” “Duh,” I said flatly. “She’s a human being. She’s not going to look like a golden retriever.” “…You don’t get it!” As he spoke, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then looked at me, a strange expression on his face. I kicked his shin, leaving a dusty footprint on his pristine black suit pants. “Spit it out.” He gestured for me to check my phone. It took me a solid minute to get the sluggish Twitter app to load. When it did, the top three trending topics were emblazoned with fiery “EXPLODING” icons. #DamienBlackwoodWeddingRehearsal #DamienAndLilyFairytale A push notification from a celebrity gossip account popped up at the same time. The headline was sensational: [Damien Blackwood’s Fairytale Wedding Rehearsal! A-List Groomsmen and a Picture-Perfect Romance!] The post was a gallery of nine photos. The center image was Damien and Lily gazing into each other’s eyes, surrounded by a crowd of impossibly beautiful people. In one of the smaller, corner photos, my husband, Marcus, dressed in a sharp tuxedo, was angled slightly away from the camera. He was steadying a woman who had nearly tripped over the hem of her bridesmaid dress. It was Lily’s best friend, Vanessa. The photographer had caught the moment perfectly. Their eyes were locked. A small, intimate smile lingered on Marcus’s lips, not yet wiped away. The next photo showed Lily, her back to the crowd, tossing her bouquet. The spray of pink and white flowers sailed through the air, landing squarely in the startled arms of Vanessa. The crowd was roaring with laughter. Marcus was standing right beside her, his gaze fixed on her as the camera shutter clicked. The trending hashtags were impossible to miss: #LilyEvansBouquet #PerfectBestManAndBridesmaid The comments were still flooding in, a chorus of strangers celebrating a happiness I was supposed to be a part of. I felt the rage coiling in my gut, but I kept my face a mask of detached curiosity as I looked at Sebastian. “I hear you kidnapped Lily Evans on Valentine’s Day.” Ten minutes later, a new post was pinned to the top of my Twitter profile. It was marked with a content warning for nudity. The caption read: Looks like my husband might be getting a new girlfriend. Should I wish them well? Asking for a friend.

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